


Moments of Grace

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Adult Content, Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-30
Updated: 2006-03-30
Packaged: 2019-02-02 18:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: "Missing scene for ""When in Rome."





	Moments of Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Whumping. Language, nudity. Disturbing imagery of a religious nature.  


* * *

He's losing it. I'm watching Danny lose it, Jack thought. "Um, Daniel? Kinda stuck right now. Big door and lil' bitty window."

He chopped his hand down, cutting Jack off. "I know that. I don't care. Think of something." The bundle in his arms was forgotten. He hugged it to his chest and paced the length of the tiny room, then turned and stalked back. "We have to go."

"Daniel," Jack said, trying for his attention. It didn't work. Danny turned and took the five steps needed to bring him to the door. "Daniel." Nothing. Turn, five steps, turn. "Daniel!" Jack stood and interposed his body, catching the agitated anthropologist by the shoulders.

"WHAT?!"

O'Neill just stood there, holding Daniel's arms, feeling the tremors begin, keeping his eyes focused on Daniel's vague, darting, blue gaze.

Slowly, the panic faded from those eyes, and Daniel let himself be led to a bench. Jack kept an arm around his shoulders, the shudders there faint but perceptible. Whatever it was, it had the kid spooked, but good. Gently, firmly, he eased the package from Daniel's arms and set it down on the bench. "What did she say, Daniel?" The tremors grew more noticeable, and he gave those broad shoulders a little squeeze.

Jack was getting spooked himself. Daniel did not frighten easily. Hell, Jackson had been through a lot of shit in his life, a lot of loss and a lot of scary situations. Had come out of it a strong, determined fighter. When Daniel was afraid, Jack had realized long ago, he usually had a damn good reason.

"There's going to be a trial, Jack. Apparently, you incited a revolt, back at the vineyard."

Feeling obscurely pleased, Jack said, "Hey, not such a bad thing. I am Spartacus," he quoted with a grin.

The tremors under his arm turned into a twitch and Daniel pulled away. "Don't joke, Jack. Do you remember what happened to Spartacus?"

A vivid memory from his movie-going childhood. The road to Rome, lined with crucifixes and dying men. "Oh."

"Oh, is right." The worst having been said, or at least strongly implied, Daniel seemed to collapse, slumping against Jack's side. O'Neill gathered him up awkwardly, but not grudgingly. He needed the nearness, too. This world was deadly, and every hand was turned against them, it seemed. "I'm the lucky one," Daniel muttered blearily. "I get to open a vein." He laughed once, grimly. "The joys of citizenship."

Jack tightened his arm around the huddled, suddenly much younger man, and dropped his cheek to rest against the top of Daniel's head. "We'll get out of here before that happens, Daniel. I promise. All we have to do is stall 'em until Carter and Teal'c get back."

They sat like that for a time, drawing comfort in shared silence. Finally, though, Daniel said, "Uh, Jack? Are we cuddling here?" He smiled shyly and looked up at O'Neill's expression of fake outrage.

"Us? Cuddling? I'm sure there's an Air Force regulation or two against it." Feeling not at all uncomfortable, despite his acting, Jack helped Daniel to sit up. "So, what's in the package?"

"Package?" Daniel looked around myopically. "Oh, the package! I don't know." He picked it up and unwrapped it carefully, feeling its contents shift. "Hey, here's a shirt for you, Jack." He passed over the rumpled linen tunic, which O'Neill gratefully pulled on. "Couple of blankets, some dried fruit and a water-skin. Hey, breakfast!" He popped a bit of leathery apricot in his mouth and chewed in delight. "They're spiced; try one."

Amazing. Terrified and in despair one moment and relishing fruit roll ups the next. "Hand 'em over, Danny-boy. Got any dried peaches?"

"There's raisins."

Scowling, Jack grumbled, "I draw the line at anything even remotely resembling grapes. Even dried up ones." He looked into the open package and found another bundle. Plucking it out he opened it and found rolls of clean fabric and a small pot of white, greasy, aromatic salve. "Your girlfriend really likes you, Daniel. Take off your shirt."

"Huh?" Danny blinked in confusion.

"Take off your shirt. Your girlfriend gave us something for your back." He waved the jar towards Daniel, showing him the little pot of salve. A gentle scent of herbs wafted from the open container, chasing away some of the more noxious smells of the too small room.

Daniel poked his finger in the jar and sniffed. "Wonder what's in it."

"No idea. At least it's not all flowery. Come on, Daniel, I want to check you out. Over," he corrected himself hastily, though the second wasn't much better than the first.

An elegant eyebrow arched up and Daniel quirked one of his tiny smiles. In a low voice that husked straight to the gibbering id in Jack's mind, Daniel said, "Why Jack. I didn't know you were curious." He turned his back on O'Neill's wry grimace and slowly, teasingly drew the tunic over his head. At least, he started to. Halfway up, the abused skin on his arms and torso began complaining, loudly.

"Uh, could use some help, here, " he said, his voice muffled by the fabric.

Strong hands eased his stiff arms up and lifted the fabric away from his skin. Jack was smiling bemusedly as Daniel's head emerged. "What?"

"Nothing. Turn around." O'Neill could not tell the younger man how damn cute he looked with his hair all messed up from his struggle with the shirt.

Too sore to press the point, Daniel turned on the narrow bench and presented his back to Jack's inspection. All amusement fled and Jack winced in empathy as he got his first good look at Hastatus' handiwork. "Daniel...."

"That better not be an I'm sorry, Jack. We've covered that already. Anyway, I bet it looks a lot worse than it feels."

Jack was taking no bets, and for the moment all he could do was look at his abused friend. Should have been faster, should have never sent you off by yourself, should have known, dammit, it was all too easy, should have.... He shook his head sharply, tamping down the anger and took a deep breath. Let it out. Still the tremors in his hands. Calm the fluttering in his gut. Not the first time a member of his command has been hurt. Not the last.

Turning stiffly, Daniel tried to see what Jack was looking at, but the older man's hand stopped him. "Don't. You'll open some of these up if you twist up like that. Stand up a sec."

Daniel climbed to his feet, swaying slightly until Jack caught his arm and steadied him. "Little light headed. I'm fine."

Yeah, shure, ya betcha, Danny. After making sure Daniel was steady on his feet, Jack took the odorous mattress off of "his" bench and laid it on top of the one Danny had dragged beneath the window. Over this, he folded the two blankets Hastatus' woman had given them, leaving one fold hanging down. This done, he pulled Daniel into the light and tried to asses the damage dispassionately, slipping into Colonel mode as a refuge from his feelings.

Most of the welts and cuts were on his back and legs, and his upper arms. It looked like Daniel had turned turtle, drawing his legs in and rolling up tight to protect his face and sensitive abdomen. In consequence, though, the areas that had been accessible had received a concentration of abuse. His back was streaked with crisscrossed welts, and there were several places where weal met weal that were open and seeping blood. None of them would scar; there was more bruising than anything else.

Nevertheless, O'Neill knew this would leave a permanent mark. Just that no one would be able to see it.

Life had knocked Daniel around, no doubt about that, but this was abuse for the sake of abuse. Daniel was a strong man, a survivor, and would get over this in time. The feeling of helplessness, of violation was the worst, Jack remembered. That would take much longer to heal than these livid marks.

"Lie down," his traitor voice broke and he cleared his throat. "Lie down on your stomach. I need to clean some of these."

Daniel, damn his perceptive soul, gave him a searching look. Suddenly Jack was glad Danny's eyes were crapping out on him. He drew back a little into the shadows and pointed to the bench. "Down, boyo."

"Kay." For once too tired to be stubborn, Daniel stretched out on the bench, wincing. "Wait a sec." He reached beneath himself and untied the knot on his loincloth. "Better. Okay. Salve me."

Jack knelt beside his friend, waterskin and cloth in hand, and began gently cleaning the dried blood from the worst of the cuts. He hoped the water was clean; most of Daniel's back was already inflamed, red, and warm. His skin was not hot, so there was no fever yet, but there was infection setting in. Jack could tell by the little twitches of Daniel's broad shoulders that the procedure was more than a little painful. The younger man made no sound, though, apart from the odd, quiet gasp.

Each sharp inhalation made Jack wince in sympathy, and he tried to keep his touch as light as possible while still being quick and thorough. Still, it took too long, and Daniel was panting by the time Jack was done. "You better...have left some...you're next...O'Neill."

Not answering, Jack scooped up some of the cool salve and began working it into Daniel's back. At the first touch, Danny hissed, tensing, then relaxed almost immediately under Jack's strong, gentle hands. "Oh, that's better," he said smearily. "What's in that stuff? Everywhere you touch it stings for a second, then the pain is gone. 'S wonderful stuff. Save some fer Janet."

"Shhhh."

"Sorry," Daniel said with a yawn. He pillowed his head on his bent arm and closed his eyes with a happy sigh.

Jack was glad to feel his friend relaxing. The tense muscles were turning into clay under his kneading fingers. He finished the broad shoulders and moved down to Daniel's thighs and feet, keeping up the light, soothing massage as he worked the salve into these, more scattered welts. There were more bruises here, as if he'd been kicked repeatedly. Jack's ribs ached in sympathy.

Daniel's breathing was evening out, Jack realized. He was asleep. The younger man was sprawled in boneless slumber. His fair back, marred and glistening in the sunlight, rose and fell with deep, easy breaths.

Shaking his head, amused and touched at the man's trust in him, Jack wrapped up the rest of the supplies for later. He worked the remaining salve into his own, still sore hands and wrists and wrapped clean dressings around them.

The room was warm enough, he decided, and those wounds needed the air and sun to heal. He sat on the bench opposite and drew up his knees, hugging them loosely. God, it was good to just sit for a while. He felt like he'd been moving constantly from the moment they'd set foot through the gate. Good to just sit and rest and watch Daniel sleep. He'd take any chance he got; Jack wasn't a proud man. He let himself look.

The sun glinted through the younger man's dark hair, catching the red and gold in the mussed fringe. It was starting to grow out a bit from the last cut, making the sleeping man look much younger. The lines of pain and stress eased with sleep as well. He did not look like an angel, Jack decided. Not unless it was a very earthy angel. An angel of blood and bones, accidentally stranded with a team of very odd mortals.

Jack's eyes trailed along the strong back, the lean hips, thighs, taking in the whole physical beauty of the man. Sleeping Eros, with Jack as a kind of grizzled, marred Psyche.

Daniel never asked; Jack never told. Much safer that way.

He let his gaze linger on the curled hand nearest to him. Daniel had beautiful hands. Long fingers, sensitive and strong from teasing the past from the earth's stubborn embrace. Frequently smudged and dusty from long hours of research. Eloquent when words escaped the man. Gentle when he pulled Jack into the cooling waters, back behind that inn, and held him up as the nightmare of the vineyard was washed away. Hands that had helped save worlds.

I'm besot, Jack thought, smiling ruefully at himself. If I were a poet, I'd be writing odes to his frickin' hands. Lucky for the world, I don't know a haiku from a sonnet.

With a start, he realized Danny's eyes were open. Watching Jack watch him. Jack looked away, as if his gaze would burn the younger man. "Jack? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Daniel." When did his voice get so gravelly? He cleared his throat and took a swallow of water. Too far away. He's too far away to have seen my face. He doesn't know.

"The funny thing about myopia," Daniel said conversationally, "is the harder you try to focus, the clearer things get. It's an effort, and it leaves my eyes pretty sore, but given enough time, I can see some details from across a room. A small room, anyway." He sat up and smiled, stretching. "That salve is great stuff. I don't hurt anywhere. Thanks, Jack."

Not trusting his voice, Jack did not say anything. He knows. He saw. Heat crept into Jack's face, and he turned away from those knowing eyes.

In an instant, Daniel was kneeling before him. "No no no, Jack. It's...it's okay. Not asking, no telling. I understand." He caught Jack's clenched fist in both of his strong hands and kissed it reverently. "Me too. Long time now." Kissed the other hand. "It's okay."

Jack closed his eyes on the intoxicating sight of a nearly nude Daniel, his loincloth in imminent danger of falling floorward, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him with eyes filled with, of all things, love. Love and a kind of giddy joy that Jack could never, never remember having seen there before. Jack opened his eyes again, suddenly not willing to miss a moment of that look aimed at him. He bent and cupped Daniel's face, drinking in the sight of him. "Daniel, I," he began, but never got to finish the sentence. His mouth was captured in a kiss, as sweet as it was sudden.

Velvet lips, tasting faintly of apricot and scratchy from two day's growth of beard, lingered over his. A daring tongue snaked out, licking over Jack's lips, tasting him, and the kiss deepened. Daniel captured Jack's mouth, made it his own, and gave up his soul in the same act. Everything was changed. Nothing had changed. This was a new thing, but as old as their friendship. Familiar and alien. Jack's head was swimming and he realized he was turning into a poet despite himself.

Breath was becoming an issue, but neither man was willing to break contact, it seemed. Finally, Jack made the sacrifice and drew back, panting like he had just run a race. Daniel's hand rested on his cheek, caressing and warm. He combed through Daniel's hair, letting the silky strands tickle his palms.

"Love you," Jack said softly. Fuck policy.

Daniel nuzzled Jack's caressing hand, kissing it as it strayed close to his mouth. "Love you. Took you long enough."

Jack's mouth twitched, still humming from that amazing first kiss. "There were issues. You were married, and straight. I didn't think you'd be interested."

"You were married," Daniel pointed out, stroking Jack's thigh softly. Just feeling, and enjoying being able to touch freely. Both men's hands were in motion, taking joy in the freedom to touch, so long denied.

"Protective camouflage," Jack said, then shook his head. "That's not true. I loved Sara very much. I thought she was what I needed. Then when Charlie died," he choked, stumbled, went on, "I couldn't give her what she needed anymore. Couldn't be that man. Never straight, though. You could hide tanks in the closets at my house."

Daniel laughed, a wonderful sensation against Jack's legs. "Yeah, I guessed." He had to be hurting, kneeling like that, Jack thought. He stood and drew the younger man over to the padded bench. Daniel went willingly, curling into Jack's side as he had done earlier, after his panic attack. For two big guys, they fit together surprisingly well. He slipped his arm behind Jack's back and filled his arms with the man, sighing in contentment.

"What was that for?" Jack rumbled into Daniel's hair, caressing it with his cheek.

In answer, Daniel tilted his head up and caught Jack's lips once again. So different, thought Jack muzzily. Kissing a woman is all softness, like sinking down into a featherbed, taking what she was willing to give. With Daniel, the kiss was giving and taking in equal measure, and there was nothing soft about these kisses. These were kisses on a mission, and bits of Jack were standing up and saluting their authoritative demeanor.

Very glad the tunic had lots of loose folds, and not wanting to rush things, Jack drew back a little, licking his lips.

Daniel followed, murmuring, "too long...need you...love you..."

"Whoa, big fella," Jack drew back further, caressing Daniel's cheek to take the sting out of his action. "You're playing with fire, here, Danny." He did not want to admit how close he was to losing what little control he had on the situation, but he had to. "Are you sure?"

Daniel kissed Jack's brow and smiled at him serenely. A very earthy angel, an angel eager to partake of earthly pleasures too long denied. "I'm sure, Jack. Fire can warm as well as burn. We've both been cold for too long." Greatly daring, as daring as that first kiss, Daniel captured Jack's hand and brought it to his barely covered erection, gasping at the first touch.

"God, Daniel," Jack murmured, stroking Daniel's hot skin through the loose fabric. He wondered where the younger man found the courage, then he stopped thinking altogether as Daniel kissed him. Hands were busy dealing with fabric and knots but all of Jack's attention was on those devastating, claiming lips.

Then Daniel grasped his hard length and began stroking him in time to the light touches he was receiving from Jack. Gasping, the older man tried to pull away, but Daniel's mouth followed, kissing away all doubts. Daniel twitched his loincloth out of the way and moaned into Jack's mouth as skin touched skin and Jack was amazed at how soft that skin was.

Then there were no more thoughts. Just hands, lips, warmth, friendship, joy, and the harsh breathing of two men who had finally come home to each other.


End file.
